Atonement
by prosemeds
Summary: Season 4 AU. Wounds take time to heal. Sins...sometimes longer. (Prompt from Castlefanficprompts: Cops and Robbers post 47 seconds.) Cover Art inspired by Calpal052699/whatifellinlovewith (tumblr)
1. Chapter 1

_Damn_ the coffee he drank today. Was it too strong? Or did the obvious residue of liquor from the night before taint it? Castle surely could muse up several things.

But he refused to, in fear of thinking about, well, her.

Thankfully Martha had been so accommodating to him that morning, even if the coffee went to waste. His body had sunk well into his sheets as he nursed a headache. He could barely move, but not for lack of will or power. Any attempt disturbed some part of his head, straining a vein possibly, the throbbing beating against his skin that still reeked of the bar. His itinerary for the day entailed just to stay in bed, and maybe, just maybe make it to the living room to distract himself with some tv, but Martha dragged him out with her to the bank having none of his moping around.

She struggled to make conversation with him in the car on the way, each try dismissed with a nod or incoherent mumble as he often dazed out. Only half the words she spoke to him made it through his ears, but even then they weren't processed completely.

"Kiddo I'm pregnant," she said, in a last attempt to grab his attention.

"That's great, mother," he replied, eyes unwavering from the road.

She threw up her hands in frustration, with one going to hold her head while the other fell on her thigh with a loud slap. Staring him down, she waited for his eyes. He didn't meet hers until he looked her way to go for a parking spot. "What?"

"You need to stop this, Richard," she said pointing her finger. She sustained it even while getting out of the car, but before he could respond, she strode far ahead of him, leaving for a moment to allow him to step back into reality.

Listening to his mother bounce back and forth with the manager got old after about two minutes. His fingers grew fond of his forehead, trying to remedy the violent pulse at his temple, aggravated with every increase of his mother's voice. He had insisted several times to just cosign the loan, but her stubbornness persisted, prolonging their stay. In an effort to divert his attention elsewhere, his awareness of his ringing phone grew, which had been going off every twenty or so minutes since eight. Beckett had been calling and messaging, and within the last hour the frequency increased exponentially, but he let them all pass…until he couldn't stand the sound of it, and or boredom of the wait. Slipping away from the desk, he went to call her back. It only took a couple rings for her to answer.

"Castle–hey," she started, her approach timid. He heard the relief in her voice, but something else underlay it, something like…fear.

"What's up," he managed. His voice kept up, but the words still fell flat. He didn't shy from showing his disinterest, crisp and clear to her ears.

"I was just–um," she struggled, "is everything okay?"

"Just fine," he dismissed. She waited for some continuance, but nothing came.

"My calls and messages, did you happen to–"

"–yeah," he rushed, "I was busy."

"Oh okay," she said, her tone contradicting her words. No, it certainly wasn't okay. He'd missed so many of her calls and messages. Why? First ditching the talk they were supposed to have after the last case, now this?

"Was there anything important? Is that why you called?" He started cutting, cutting away at her, more bitter than the coffee still lingering on his tongue.

"I just thought you would come in today–listen, I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" She let her edge out too. Why the hell was he like this?

"A bit, yeah, I'm–tending to some business things right now, really should be going."

He shouldn't have called her back.

Silence hung between them, but he paid no attention anymore. His eyes fixated on the two individuals who just walked in, dressed in scrubs, wary and just a little too self-conscious as they entered the building. His focus had wandered so much, he screened out Beckett, who'd been calling for his attention.

"Castle–Castle, is everything alright?"

He followed their eyes, watchful of their moves, his breath nearly ceasing as he closed in on them. "No. No it's not–I think this bank is about to be robbed."

"Castle we're not doin' this, okay–"

"–I'm serious," he pressed. Another walked in. His heart and head pulsated in sync. "There's a man and woman dressed in scrubs, and a third just walked in. They all have suspicious–"

"Everybody get down on the floor! Now!"

 _Shit_.

Panic. Screams. Demands. Her chest fell inward, her breath choked in her throat as she listened. Muscles tensed, eager to act, but remained restricted, still aware that she sat helpless at her desk.

And he was there.

"Castle what's happening," she urged him. His silence continued, hollowing out the pit of her stomach as she lie in wait. "You need to tell me what's goin' on."

Fighting against the chaos he had darted for his mother, ducking behind the desk, shielding her from view as he looked on the situation. They instructed everyone to throw down their phones as they began to ravage the place, but he clung to his cell, knowing this was his lifeline.

"Castle–!"

"–I'm at the New Amsterdam Bank and Trust on Lex. They've gone for the manager's key, taken him aside. Emptied the cash drawers. There's three of them, all dressed in scrubs."

He listened to her call out to the boys, sending for help. She kept assuring him a squad was on the way, but he knew better. Instinct informed him how this could play out. They wouldn't get off easy, not that fast. Still, he clung to the hope of being wrong.

"Just three?" she clarified again. As he motioned to speak, a chilled hole rested on the back of his neck. Barrel. With a hard swallow, he forced out the last words.

"Plus one. So I lied, but you're familiar with the concept."

In a moment's confusion, her words went dry, abandoning her mouth as the sound crackled, a new voice emerging on the line. "You've got a good hero over here with me," he started. "It's a shame I'll have to make an example of him."

She packed on her voice, mustering up the strength to put aside her fear of the stakes in the situation…His life. "I wouldn't do that just yet. I've got squad cars on the way over right now. No damage has been done, so you can still walk away, disappear." She kept her voice leveled, even though her screams tore up the walls inside. Clawing, peeling away at her as her imagination painted the worst. "I'm giving you that choice, _a_ choice. I think that's pretty damn generous of me, don't you think?"

"So you're doing me a kindness, huh sweetheart?" He cocked his head, staring down at Castle as he trained his gun on him, teasing as he slid it up towards his head.

"The best kind. Because otherwise I'll have to hunt you…and trust me, you don't want that."

"No, I probably don't." For a moment, he seemed to consider her words. But he snatched it away. "You know what though? I'll take my chances."

The line cut dead, phone crushed under his heel –

along with her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

All the way to New Amsterdam, her breathing slowed, sharp and stifled with every bit like a stab to her chest. Though concentrated on the road, her mind spilled out, overflowing with all the questions, the scenarios, and the words, all those damn words still trapped under her tongue…the words for him, words about him, what he was, who he was. Plenty of things still unspoken.

She had to convince herself this mess between them involved something else, even if just to clear her head to think on the task at hand, but underneath the layers and folds of her denial, she knew. Her gut told the truth, and it knew better, but for now she couldn't listen to it, as only one thought plagued her mind. _He's in there. He's in there. He's in there and were stuck like this._

When she arrived on the scene, she inched towards the front of the police line, passing through as her eyes locked onto the building. Her breath trembled at the sight of it, providing just enough to keep her up. Knees buckling slightly, with a back that desired to give in, she fought it. She fought every bit of weakness stirring inside her. She had to get him. No matter what she would get him out alive. That was the goal. Her goal.

Before she could reach the Captain handling the operation, Espo and Ryan met up with her with new information, hopeful for progress, but received just the opposite.

"He doesn't need us," she repeated their words. "He said that?" They settled for nods, studying her reaction time, assessing where she was at mentally. They'd watched her all morning fussing over Castle. Now this was happening…she had to be on edge, and they prepared themselves to back her up or slap her out of whatever emotional torment kept her wrapped tight.

But damn–they resided farther out of the know than they even realized.

She started a step towards the command center, but Espo held out a hand to stop her from passing through them. The lines in her face shone more evident in the sunlight than inside the precinct. The sight alarmed them both.

"What's goin' on with him Beckett," Espo said. His eyes steadied on hers, the seriousness of his concern readily flowing from them. Turning elsewhere to look, her eyes refused to meet his and Ryan's gaze right away in fear that she'd give something up, something they shouldn't see. She'd deal with her pain on her own, on her own terms. She loved his good intentions, both of them, but this was the last thing she she needed to do right now.

"Nothing," she said, maintaining her best voice and face. Each of them knew her bluff, but they didn't fight it. The distress sat on her face as every part of her lied, shielding the ache suppressed deep into her bones as his face surfaced in her mind again. That's not to say that it ever left. It took to a memory of him laughing, looking at her with such lo–

 _No,_ she told herself, accepting the denial of the situation again.

"We know you guys had a thing this morning," Ryan stepped in. "I mean, do we have anything to worry about besides what's going on here? Something we don't know?"

A lot of things.

"I appreciate the concern guys. I do. But it's between me and Castle, alright? Just worry about getting him out. Let's bring him home."

Both boys exchanged glances as she walked passed them, going for the captain. They followed suit, pacing themselves with her long strides towards the center. She stepped with so much fervor, a clear determination to assert herself in any way she could. Upon entering, Captain Peterson made eyes at her immediately.

"Captain Peterson my name is Detective Kate Beckett–"

"Are you the cop he talked to? You're Kate?" He walked toward her, an immediacy in his step and voice.

"I–yes, yes sir." All her initial built up energy, ready to bark at him, started to fade.

"He's asking to talk to you."

"What, again?"

"To negotiate, detective."

"Why me?"

"Said, and I'm quoting here, 'she sounds like quite a catch, plus I think her boy is in here, which is always fun.'"

 _Damn it_. How much did he know? Is that what Castle would become now? Leverage? She started to rot inside over the idea while the boys shot looks at each other, all of them wondering what the hell it was like inside. How was he handling himself? Was he hurt at all? How was Martha?

"Sir, I'm not trained in hostage negotiations. I don't think–"

"Is it true? He really your partner?" Her lips parted to speak, but nothing fell out. Of course he was her partner…her partner in all the ugliness, in all the laughter, in all the pain they endured together for the last four years. She couldn't think of anything more true.

She just nodded curtly in response, biting down her top lip, eyes batting hard to restrain her tears.

"I think that should be motivation enough for you. We're stuck otherwise, he won't talk with anyone else."

She turned behind to look at Ryan and Espo, who nodded in encouragement to the set up. "We'll handle investigating backgrounds. You do your thing," Espo said. They both motioned to leave, and with the shut of the door she returned her eyes to Peterson.

"What's your specialty–?"

"Beckett, sir. I'm a homicide detective at the twelfth precinct."

"Holy shit, seriously?" Her eyebrows furrowed at his words, expectant for an explanation at his contempt. "Alright, you ignore every instinct your homicide training has ever taught you. All of it. You keep him calm above anything else, you get me?"

She nodded, but inside she knew she couldn't actually promise such a thing. Whoever this asshole was, he was a definite threat to Castle. If she had to run him down with her gun, she would.

Without _any_ hesitation.

–

Castle's keen observations served him well inside. Amidst the hostages, he kept quiet, analyzing the sight before them, writing the story, editing and revising in his head as he tried to render the real agenda. He noted on everything they did, keeping silent until he could obtain some proof for his theory. At least this way, he wouldn't be worried or concerned about the outside–the efforts Beckett contributed to helping them. He struggled to suppress his thoughts, his musings of his muse, but she still occupied the back of his mind. He was okay, right up until the phone call the "doctor" received.

"Hey, Trapper John here," he started, circling the hostages. His eyes sought for Castle, wide with a grin plastered along his mouth…unnerving. "Hey hero, it's your girl! Katie, it's good to hear your voice."

"It's strange, I can't really say the feelings mutual." She kept herself down, resisting the urge to blow his head off with a wave of her words. "How is everyone?"

"Here, let me put you on speaker." He held out the phone as he walked toward Castle and Martha. Bending down beside them, he held it up towards Castle's face, who shied away in distaste. "Say hi to your sweetheart," he teased.

"She's not my girlfriend," he muttered low. Through the line, she still caught it, and rolled in her lips to level herself again. Yes, it was true. But for whatever reason, it packed a hit to her chest, reigning her heartstrings.

"Why not? I mean if her voice is as sexy as–"

"Our relationship is strictly professional," he jabbed again. Martha's eyes flicked toward his, meeting a pair of duller blues. A gulp went down her throat, watching the darkness that consumed her son. "We work together, I told you that."

Her heart tugged deep, further and further when he spoke trying to sterilize the label of their relationship. They didn't just work together, not really, not with all things considered. After all they'd been through together, a working relationship had to be the most basic thing of what they were. Then again, they didn't completely know what they were themselves. "That's my partner you've got there," she said, hopeful he would hear the earnest undertone, the sincerity in her claim over him. Partner…partner made so much more sense to her. Someone beside you, day in and day out. It meant everything and anything, without having to explain much.

But that was exactly the problem.

"I'd like him back," she continued, shoving aside her thoughts. "Along with his mother and the rest of those good citizens stuck with him."

"Give–and it will be given. Guess who's gotta give first?"

"We're gonna work through this. I'm sure we can come to some agreement. But you'll have to make the first step for us to start movin'."

"I need to know if you can deliver, or if you'll lie to me. If you can't deliver, I kill hostages. If you do lie, I kill hostages. If you screw me around, I kill hostages. Note the pattern."

"You can trust me," she uttered in a heavy voice. "You don't lie to me, I won't to you." _Oh_ , Castle thought, _so your partner you lie to, but stay truthful to the man who's deciding whether he lives or dies? Awesome._

"Good then. Because if you screw around with me, I will kill them, with you on the phone, doing it slow, and you won't know who's up – so we can see just how well you know your _partner_ by the pain in his screams."

Castle watched Trapper John ditch the call, making eyes at him as he stood up to walk away. After a few steps, he stopped, turning back around on his heel to speak to him. "Your partner is great. If you're not gonna have her your way with her, can I?"

A moment's rage surged him forward, the thought setting a flame to everything inside, but Martha pulled back on him. Squeezing his shoulders to bring him back down, Trapper John walked away, light chuckles flying through the air back to hit Castle.

"Darling you have to control yourself, remember where we are," Martha lectured. "We can't afford to let your impulses take over and get you, me, and everyone else in here killed."

The troubling part wasn't even in John's words. Those, Castle knew meant to irk his buttons, his ego. It was the remark that could pass, because the threat came empty. The real trouble existed in his head, as he remained wedged, between anger and love for her. As much as he wanted her to experience the same sting under his skin, he still wanted to protect her with his life. And in these matters of the heart, conflict enables you to do all kinds of stupid.

All kinds of unthinkable.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Rewriting a damn good episode is hard as fothamucking hell.

That is all.

* * *

His words echoed back to him over and over again. Everything he said, the way he said them, the bitterness played on loop as he mentally pictured the burden placed over her. He knew she heard him. She heard every word. Each one intended to cut through, to slice deep inside, to uproot the guilt and bring it to the surface for her to tap. He wouldn't hold back. He wouldn't bite his tongue for her sake. Not now.

The cold shoulder he'd given her for the last week failed to communicate his feelings, so perhaps these words would finally do the job. Maybe they'd wake her up and remind her of the last year…a year of waiting, of patience he gave her every day, and in the end, despite everything, he still had the great fortune of finding out the truth second hand – from her lips, meant for another's ears. She lied. She remembered. She remembered _every second of it_. And it didn't matter how much love still flooded in his veins, under all his skin, pumping and beating in his heart for her. It didn't matter.

She would pay for her sins.

Some, however, didn't agree with his methods of punishment. Some didn't agree and expressed it quite vocally…namely Martha, who spent fifteen minutes lecturing him about the phone call with Trapper John and Beckett.

"You're not being fair, Richard," Martha muttered. Castle continued to assess the odd behavior of the robber in the safe deposit box room, simultaneously fighting to ignore his mother. Her words ate at him, but he resisted. "You know it's true, and that's exactly why you're not responding to me."

"Maybe I'm not responding because I don't think this is necessarily the best time to have this discussion," he dismissed.

"Oh no? You don't think so? Because ya coulda fooled me earlier." She watched as he made eyes everywhere else, focused on each of the doctors, but she wanted no more of it and held his chin to turn it her way, making those blues meet her own. "You're dragging something personal into this, and it could very well do more harm here. I get it, dear. I do. The one you love lied to you, and that's painful. But remember the others here with us. They have families…people whom they love. Don't act up. Let Katherine work through this with a clear head. Not even for our sake, but for theirs."

He swallowed, setting aside his anger and listening, even for a moment. "I know my limits, mother."

"Well…I hope you do," she warned.

Redirecting his attention, he caught sight of a man just across from him. He rocked back and forth, face polished and flushed. Almost sickly. He had been sloshing back his water bottle in short intervals from the last time Castle had seen him. Exchanging looks with Martha, she nodded off to her son, and he scooted towards the man barely holding himself together.

"Hey," Castle tried. "How's it going?" This close, he could make out the beads of sweat, all the trembles along his body. _Damn, poor guy._

"Uh–not-not so good, man. If you didn't notice were in a pretty messed up situation right now."

Castle looked to his mother who only shrugged, agreeing that it probably was a stupid question to ask. "Yeah–right, sorry. I just um–we're gonna make it out okay. You know that right? What's your name?"

"Sal. Sal Martino. And if it wasn't for you calling the cops we wouldn't even be in this mess," he spat, his stability draining out with each second.

"No-no, that's how we're gonna get out of this. My partner remember, she's a cop, and I know she'll get us out."

"I just wanna see my family again…" he broke, some tears filling his lids.

"I know. I know, so focus on them. Okay? Why don't you tell me about them huh," Castle said, trying to distract his mind.

"I got a boy. His name is Connor."

"I'll bet he's a beautiful little guy. I'm sure you can't wait to see him." Sal softened at his words.

"You have no idea…" he faded out in a smile. Castle watched him start to calm, and after a moment passed he went to leave, but Sal spoke up again. "What about you? Tell me about your partner."

"Oh. Beckett? Well she's…she's the best, you know, at what she does. She gets the guy. Always."

"She the one from earlier right," he asked, interest slightly piqued. Castle only nodded. "Maybe it's just me, but it kinda seemed weird between you two – but that's just my own two cents to toss out–"

"No-no, it's not unfounded. We just uh…were having some problems right now."

"But…she'll be doing everything she can then? For this to turn out okay?"

"Yes, I trust that she will. I trust her…her capabilities," he forced out.

"So you're close then?"

He sat on the question, almost not wanting to answer, dragging out his nod, and speaking low to keep his words just between their ears. "I'd like to say that, yeah."

"Hopefully you'll see her soon too."

Despite the weird questionnaire, Sal seemed to come back down to normal. If anything, that was the important part. So without another word from either, Castle pat him on the back, and Sal returned a thankful grin. As he slid back to his mother, she fashioned a tender look on her son as he nestled back next to her.

"What?" he asked half-smiling.

"That's the you I've been looking for in all this."

"Which me?"

"The concerned one…selfless. The one who tries to save the world by figuring out the story."

With a change of face, her words sunk in. He took a moment to look around, as if a whole new light shed over the room. A new perspective pulled him in. Musing for another few moments, he then proceeded to stand up, turning Martha livid as the three doctors trained their guns on him.

"Is it possible to just go right here, or could we all start using the bathroom?"

–

Waiting. Idle. Beckett hated it. There was always a next move to make, another line to pursue, another way to go, and yet here she sat, stupidly expecting for something to happen. Each minute came and died, each second wasted. It raged her, as she knew better than anyone just what kind of damage a mere few seconds could do.

Standing in front of the bank again and staring into the doors, she hoped for something to change, but also not. Any sudden door slam, siren, or shout startled her, jolting her body believing that it came from inside. The waiting was certainly painful – but the worst part had to be moving and acting outside of the situation. This time she had to watch outside the line of fire…outside the crosshairs.

With Castle as her damn replacement.

His words echoed back to her over and over again. She listened to his voice spit them out, calling her subconscious to wake up. She didn't want it to. If anything, she wanted to keep it down, avoid the distraction until this situation could find resolve, but her gut and conscience played too stubborn. Memories returned her to almost a year back, and the shooting would flash in front of her eyes every time they shut, seeing Castle's face hovering hers upon impact with the ground at her feet, the blood gushing as he uttered those words…those words that made her shiver, that spilled over her chilling skin, and stunned her heart more than the force of that damned bullet. It seemed silly now, to deny remembering those few changing, last few seconds, and her gut reminded her so.

But she too was stubborn.

The thought lingered beneath the surface, shoved down out of view, but consuming every bit of her hidden mind as the active one waited for answers on the current situation. It was no wonder she felt so exhausted. Her idle feet tapped, and when she couldn't stop moving she paced, constantly checking her phone for updates from the boys. Espo was able to relay little info from his buddies in ESU, but though little, darkened the chances of…dare she say, survival. What could she do? She didn't do this. She didn't do this work, nothing, nothing like this. They'd been in situations before, sometimes ambiguous and inexplicable, but this was another. A true test for them both. With their partnership, and whatever else that entailed, hanging on the line, she had to do something.

She discovered that first something after several minutes in wait when her ears narrowed on a familiar voice, one lost in the crowd behind her that pushed through to the front of the lines. When she turned, her sight focused on a flow of ember hair beaming under the sunlight, lifted by the light breeze and the girl's eagerness to wade through the crowd.

"Alexis!" she called out. The red flew aside with one turn to reveal a set of blue eyes shooting her way. Alexis slowed her steps toward her, brows furrowed and eyes thinned as she neared.

"They're in there aren't they," she said approaching. "That's-that's why you're here." She panted, but paid little attention to it, visibly more concerned on getting answers.

"Yes–I'm sorry–" The words seemed to evade Beckett when she spoke, speech suspended as she looked into Alexis, those piercing eyes all dulled out, gleaming with tears…her father's. Eyes Beckett may never get to see again.

"Neither of them answered me and dad–dad always answers and–"

Beckett grabbed a hold of her arms, steadying the young girl before her – but even she gulped in her efforts to relieve Alexis, mindful of the stakes, the stats and numbers set before them. "We're gonna do _everything_ we can, okay? I'm not walking away from this, from them, I swear to you."

"Really? So you're not gonna pull what you did last summer?"

 _Shit._ "Okay – I understand. You're worried, you're upset. But right now is not the time–"

"–He's been out every night this last week, did you know that?" Alexis spat, shrugging her shoulders up to remove Beckett's hold. She waited for response, but strain and distress painted on Beckett was more than enough cue to keep going. "I've barely seen him. He just leaves, trying to think things through, and he'll come home, just to drink in his study because he can't find the answers that _you_ haven't given him. And I know you know what I'm talking about."

Everything inside her fell, plunged deep somewhere she had no access to. He knew. He knew the truth. He must've if Alexis had the means to come at her like this. Eyes brimming with tears, she bit her tongue to fight every instinct to retaliate. The words were unsolicited and uncalled for, but she couldn't combat them. Not because of the truth, but because they came from a little girl who could potentially lose her family in one shot today.

Mustering up all the strength she had, she managed a couple words for as long as she could. "Sweetie–I didn't know, okay, I didn't know. I'm so sorry. But hey–" Alexis started to look away, but she gripped onto her again to maintain her gaze. "I do–I do I care about your father."

Young Alexis started to peek out as she broke down more, shaking with anger and fear. "I watched him try to take a bullet for you Kate," she mumbled, fighting to keep composure. "And I'm so, so tired of almost losing him."

 _Damn it, Kate._ Had that even crossed her mind? What he did affected more people than just himself…and what if he _had_ taken the bullet…God. The idea slapped right on her scar, struggling even more to manage a reply. "I know, sweetie. We–we're gonna get through this. And our mess is something that me and him have to work on, but after, after I get him and your gram out of this. Okay?"

"They're all I've got," she said cutting in just after, all the emotions still dripping from her voice. It broke up a bit more. The tears continuously flowed from her as she stood trembling, but unmoving. "Don't, don't let them go. Please."

She stood her ground, and aggressed towards Beckett in her demands, but she understood – she felt the same way, but this was not the time to show weakness. So she nodded off to little Castle, holding her steady while suppressing pains, but their moment soon was disturbed when the assisting Officer Monfriez called her back to the command for the next call.

"Hey sweetheart," Trapper John dragged out when she answered. In these phone calls, every syllable he spoke sent separate chills down her back, like a never ending cringe. She tried to move past it, keeping in mind the goal while putting her uneasiness aside to get more Intel.

"You're sweet on me, huh?" she started, entertaining his game. "Okay, why don't you do me a favor then?"

"What's that Katie?"

"I need you to start sending me some hostages."

"What can you offer me?"

"What do you want?" she bit. He heard it.

"Oooh…should you be talking to me like that? Ricky here might not be too pleased."

If she could just talk to him…figure out what he knew as of this point. Maybe even how he was doing. "I'm sure he's fine with it," she brushed off.

"Oh I danno about that," he started, "let's bring him in again."

Sure enough he set her on speaker, allowing her voice to blanket the room, spreading to the ears of each person. "How is everyone?"

Before any could speak, John cut them off. "Oh we're having a lovely time. I like Ricky the best. He's a funny man."

"Oh really," she baited. "I think so too. He tellin' you his crazy stories?"

"Nah, not as of yet. He's just such a curious fella, and it's just so damn funny to watch his face with a barrel up against it."

 _Son-of-a–_ "I'm sorry, what?"

"Aw, come on. He's your partner, you've gotta know this about him already, huh?" A paused passed, he anticipating some retort, but nothing came. "Sometimes he just…peeks in where he doesn't belong you know? And it's just really…really…h-i-l-a-r-i-o-s."

The hollowness and delay in his words burned her, taunted her. She sat convulsing, burning, and nearly crying –

But pissed as hell.

"What do you want," she snarled. She wasn't asking anymore. Not now. Not like this.

"It seems I've hit a nerve guys," he said to his team. She made out soft chuckles through the line just before he continued. "Don't worry. He'll most likely be last. I like you and him, maybe a little too much, so I'll…enjoy you two for as long as I can."

As she went to answer, Castle intervened, clearly choked up, the gun possibly angled at his throat. "You're wasting your time," he stressed. Beckett gripped to the chair, breath stifled as she hung onto the words between their exchange.

"Am I? Why's that Ricky boy?"

"Do what you want with me. She's not gonna budge. You need leverage over her, sure, but you're looking at the wrong guy if you want any."

 _What the f–what was he trying to accomplish?_ He could only make this worse from here if he had something to prove…if it be the intention of his words.

"Is that so? By the sound of it, I'm thinking you're lying. Isn't he Kate?" She kept silent, looking ahead to unravel Castle's play.

"See for yourself," Castle egged him on. "Try something. Anything. I guarantee you, it won't faze her."

Her entire body bursted into flame, either out of anger for Castle's apparent spite, or for his new kind of reckless stupidity. He just dared the dog to bite off of him. Boiling inside at the thought, her ears waited, the rest of her outside, frozen. Just a sound. She waited for anything to happen, to change, but only picked up the contemplation of Trapper John.

"What the hell do you want," she insisted again.

"See Rick?" he teased. "She loves you–"

"–just-shoot-al-rea-dy." Castle urged, serious in his demand as he punctuated every syllable. He responded like a knee-jerk, reflexively upon hearing those words. "You can't use me against her–"

Pop!

The world shut out, just like that day again. Peterson faded, along with the noises outside the command center, all the commotion coming to a halt as she waited for some indication of what happened, desperate to hear something from the line.

"What the _hell_ was that."

"He's not dead. No, not yet. But gimme a tinted bus in half an hour for me and my buddies, and I'll be sure to let you know then."

And the line went dead.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Just FYI, if you like this story, go over to imnotacoptodayhoney 's blog on tumblr and drop some thank you's for prompting this at castlefanficprompts. If you don't like this story…well. My bad.  
 **Potential Triggers (unwanted touching)**  
Carry on.

* * *

"What the hell is his problem, is he sitting on a death wish?" Peterson said.

Her eyes strained against the floor, unfocused as the events unraveled in her mind like a movie scene gone wrong. Palpitations. Sweat. Cringes. The phone call looped in her head, filtering through the last bits of sound she discerned. Had he made any sound? Was he hurt? Shit. She couldn't afford to split up her mind again. Worrying about him getting shot, about getting the hostages out…about the lie.

The lie.

"How fast can we get that bus?" Peterson cut through her thoughts. She was half thankful.

"You're kidding me right? He probably just shot my partner, and you wanna reward him with his getaway?"

"If I remember correctly, Detective, your friend brought that on himself. As much as his health now stands as a priority, our primary is to get all persons in that bank out, which includes him, but not as a special agenda. We'll get that bus and then ready the fleet to take those bastards down. Monfriez, what's our waiting time?"

Beckett didn't bother to listen anymore. She pushed herself out of the chair and stalked out, chest heaving in and out all of her grievances. Outside, she straightened her arms up on the trailer to lean, head down as all the exchanged words took to life, a sea of dying whispers in her ears. Everything cluttered together, until one voice surfaced, repeating over and over. It was broken, raw, and devastating, for all kinds of reasons.

It suffocated her from memory, reeling her back into that moment again…the gush of her blood, the warmth of his hands, security of his body, the hole in her chest –

 _Kate – I love you. I love you, Kate._

 _Bang_

Her hand plowed into the trailer with a heavy smack. Hard vibrations tickled her fingers and palms, painful in the aftershock combined with a furious tremble. It was okay though. There were worse aches to worry about.

After composing herself, ten minutes later she was back in, waiting unbearably for the next move. She kept to herself, tempering breaths with a certain awareness to keep from thinking on other things. It helped. Only after so much time in a near silence, Monfriez jump started conversation.

"You said that guys' your partner right?" he uttered over a shoulder. "Why was he acting so…'she doesn't care about me' blah-blah-blah?'"

A grimace spread her lips, eyes narrowed as she pondered the thought too. "We're kinda – goin' through something right now."

Peterson eyed her, a glance just briefly before finding the monitors again.

"Mind if I ask what?" the officer continued.

"I do." She didn't even give a second's pause.

"And me too," Peterson added. He looked down at the young officer, while she looked up at him. "Nosy little twerp, just do your job. If there's any bloodshed in there, I'm gonna blame it on you for wanting to sit around and gossip."

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, fighting back a smile, maybe even a laugh. The captain looked back up to see her, winking in confidence. A slight nod signaled her gratitude.

"Hey, we're getting a call."

What? This was early.

"Katie," Trapper John greeted. His upbeat voice never faltered. Far too peppy for her liking, even in spite of the situation. "How's the bus looking?"

"Fine. How's the crowd looking?" It left her mouth so fast, she regretted it the moment it finished on her lips. Did she really wanna know how Castle was doing?

"Mostly everybody's good. Ricky and my new pal Sal, they're not looking well."

She swallowed, leveling her voice to suppress any sign of weakness. "What's the problem?"

"Our buddy Sal seems to be having some breathing problems. Might need some medical attention, but I don't know, I'm no doctor. Rick's, well I won't lie to ya, he's a little bloody."

Well, damn, that answered her question.

"So what are you lookin for here, huh? You trying to bring something to the table?" she asked while practically leaping out of her chair, nearly knocking it over had Peterson not been behind to catch it.

"You offered generosity to me before, so I figure it's only fair to reciprocate. It's how I work."

Limbs tensed, heart drumming away, she hung onto all his words. Was he serious? "Yeah? What's that look like?"

"I'll let out _two_ hostages. Our pal Sal, and Miss-expecting-Simone."

"Great. Sounds good. What's our penance?"

"You, Kate. We want you of course, to join the party."

 _Motherfu–_

"Me," she clarified, tone noticeably constricted. Every bone started to ache, a pang reverberating through as she processed his request, knowing fully well that she had to accept – even if that meant being with Castle right now. Mind swift to reason, she decided to use it to her advantage. "Okay. Fine. But I'll have to push it. I don't come cheap, Johnny."

A pause came and passed, the silence and uncertainty gnawing at the walls inside her. Peterson waved in protest, his dislike visible in the violent head shake he aimed at her. "Name your price, and then we'll talk."

"Those two hostages. Plus one."

"Not Rick, I told you how fond I am of him–"

"No. Not him. His mother. Martha Rodgers."

Another silence. She was so sure he carried on, letting her squirm under the pressures of waiting. He hummed, mocking, knowing his decision already.

"Someone else," he breathed out. Her head turned.

"No," she said.

"Sorry. Not an option. Please try again."

"It's gotta be her, or else I'm out."

"Just pick another Kate, it's that simple–"

"–no," she pressed on.

"You really wanna test my patience, Kate?" His voice started to rise. Hysterical. Daring.

"It's her or I walk away."

"I'll empty my gun on both of them right now–"

"–don't," she snarled. "Listen to me _jackass_ , I will not, will not let a young girl risk to lose her family in one hit because of you. I want her, I want Martha. _Do you understand_? Martha Rodgers, ginger hair, probably sitting next to your buddy Rick. If I walk in, she walks out – because if not, I will march straight through those doors and personally put a bullet through your skull."

The cut in her voice stunned both Peterson and Monfriez, who just sat back in awe of the entire exchange, over her anger, words…what she was about to do. The growl left a sanded throat, hoarse as she swallowed to replenish it.

Trapper John kept quiet again, probably mulling over the idea of losing some of the leverage he knew he had over her. But he wanted her inside…and she knew he wouldn't back down on it now. "Alright, Kate. You've got her. You walk in here, no guns, no knives. Be in some uniform, so I can distinguish you from the rest. Got it?"

"Fine–" she started, but before she could add on, he cut the line again.

"Are you insane?" Peterson barked. She tossed the headset down, eyes lifting up to him in a focused conviction he hadn't seen throughout their time together. "What do you hope to accomplish going in there? You're right in the middle of it."

"Yeah, sir, that's usually my stage," she said with a smirk, but her frown didn't waver. "I'll figure out something, but it beats sitting here idle, chit-chatting with this asshole."

"Hey now, I just–" Monfriez stuttered.

"Not you," she said squinting her eyes. The young man gradually turned his head back to the screens with tint of red filling his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Detective Beckett, I don't like it. I can't let you go in there." Peterson looked firm, but the tilt of his head suggested otherwise. A part of him knew, he knew he couldn't stop her.

"He's expecting me, sir, it's not just some invitation that I can decline. What matters is, we're getting three hostages out of it."

"You have no back up," Monfriez chimed in again. She offered him a faint smile, a hum too, amused by his claim.

"My back up's inside," she started, nodding towards the direction of the door. "We're not exactly at our optimal working conditions, but he's got me. I know. As for my back up out here, I'll need Detectives Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan on standby. If he lets me talk, I'll relay all insight I can."

Peterson wanted to shake his head, but a curt nod followed instead, shifty eyes as he thought it out. Ready, she looked and sounded ready, prepared. And as long as everyone _believed_ that, she would be just fine.

–

A medic's uniform. That's what they had handy. Just perfect. It would've been fine if she wasn't ablaze underneath. Every part of her burned as she walked up to the bank, steps heavier with every roll over the pavement. Surely her nervousness played part in heating her up, but the uniform didn't help.

Among a lot of other things that weren't helping.

The sound of the crowd died out behind as her heart took over to play for her. It filled her head, like a bass ringing her up as one hand reached for the door. Holding the handle, she let out a shudder, forcing herself pry it open.

The door only cracked, still locked up until one of the doctors came to see her. Identifying with her clothes, the door widened just a little more, and closed abruptly as she stepped inside. The air washed over while entering, and as her eyes adjusted from the change of light, she closed in on the hostages sitting in a circle, zip tied, gawking back at her. Before she could make any other moves, Trapper John emerged, presenting himself with an out reached hand.

"Kate," he said cocking a grin. She returned one, but denied him her touch.

"Hostages," she greeted. Smile still intact, he turned his head over to the left, where Sal, Simone, Martha and –

 _Oh God, Castle._

Sprawled against his mother's lap, Martha's hands tended to his arm, folding both in to stop the bleeding. Eyes shut from the pain, he peeled them open, widened at the sight of her.

She almost choked out his name.

"Martha-Simone-and-Sal," John sang, "you're outta here."

Two of the three sighed with relief, but Martha's eyes bugged out, holding Castle closer.

"What about Richard?" she cried.

Beckett poised to speak up, but she couldn't answer to that plea, a mother's plea. Her lips split open, only the words refused to come out, and she sank in place as she watched the realization sink in Martha's face.

"He's not part of the deal sweetheart," John cut in. His hands waved up to get them on their feet, but Martha still resisted as Sal and Simone shuffled together towards the door.

"Martha you have to go," Beckett urged her, kneeling down. A whimper escaped her lips at the thought of leaving her son, brushing his hair back to soothe him. "Martha please," she continued.

They both flicked their eyes down to Castle, who nodded firmly in agreement. Her own blues started to glisten as she still gripped onto her child. "You kiddos _stick together_ , alright? That's an order." As much as she wanted to be firm with them, the shake of her words lacked the power needed, but compensated with her distress.

"I _promise_ you, I will get him out. I'm not going anywhere. But I need you to go okay, go now, for Alexis," Beckett encouraged.

"I'll be fine," Castle finally managed. Still reluctant she hugged him, and planted a kiss on his head before she allowed Beckett to pull him up and off for her to leave. She watched them both while inching out, the taste of freedom more bitter than anything she could swallow right now.

Eyes returned to Castle, Beckett rested him against the desk behind, and started to undo his shirt. He had an idea of what she tried to do, but he averted his gaze, keeping her out of sight for the time being. She went on and ripped his clothes, fashioning together a wrap for his arm. He winced as she tied it around, her uneasy as his blood smeared onto her skin, staining it that awful familiar red.

"What did you find out that pissed him off so bad," she supplied their silence. Still tending to the wound, he hesitated, discomfort breaking up a lot of his response, swallowing some of his words.

"Safety deposit box. Caught us talking–saw pictures and papers–saw it going to the bathroom." He informed her, but he remained distant, his tone pushing her out to arms length…and then some.

"What number?" she continued.

"Manager guy figured 120. Noticed monthly access–some other old guy. John used keys. His own–manager's too."

"He didn't break in?" He just nodded no. "That's weird."

"A lot about this _robbery_ is weird."

Knotting the wrap, she let out a long sigh. He let her feel the grief with his disinterest, ignoring her, scraping off something inside with each rushed reply. Avoiding his face, she examined his wound, her fingers lingering on the cloth of light blue now turning deep violet around his bicep. Her tongue clicked in frustration grazing over it before finally flickering her greens towards his…he'd been watching in silence, an empty stare.

No sign of love resting there.

There were many more questions to ask, many things to discuss, but only one thing escaped her in a moment's vulnerability, seeing the pain – physical and mental – lodged in his face. "How…?" she dragged out.

He didn't need much to know what she asked of him. From the moment she walked in and he saw her face, he knew she knew. Now here they were. With a sharp intake of air, he let it out just as fast, in a huff, leaving behind a tainted smirk.

"I was there…" he said, only half his lip arching up. Breath stifled, her response had to wait. Dr. Huxtable came over to stand her up, tie her hands, and check for weapons. He wrapped her a little too snug she thought, on account of being a cop probably. Smart.

She sat back down unsure of how to talk, to keep going with someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with her. She'd promised Alexis and now Martha that she'd take care of him, keep him safe. How could she do it when they were like this? How could she do it when he was even a danger to himself?

"What did you hear?" She approached him meekly, despite her want to burst, to spit out everything in one blow.

"Everything that mattered. That you remembered–you remembered–everything." The pain of the bullet must've sanded off his anger. But the weakness in his voice made for worse burdens on her scar…her heart. Everything compressed trying to talk to him.

"Why didn't you just come to me?" she stressed, voice dwindling as it fell out. "Why did you go out, start drinking–" He scoffed to cut her short, coughing a bit as he responded.

"You talked to Alexis, didn't you?"

"Yes," she said. "Not in any way I'd like to, ever again. Honestly, I would've wanted to hear about it from you."

"I should say the same thing."

 _Damn it_. She couldn't take them being in this way, but she also couldn't hold back anymore either. "So you get yourself shot, that's my punishment?" She finally snapped. He picked his head up at the whip of her voice through the air. Though annoyed, he still didn't return the same force.

"I didn't think he'd actually–do it," he grumbled. "But I figured that if I convinced him we–weren't anything, he'd take the heat off of you–about me. No use for leverage…Heh. Heat off you, Heat off–ah–" The pain severed through, thoughts disjointed, maybe disoriented too, but she got the point while trailing back to some of his words.

"It didn't seem to work. I jumped at the opportunity to come in here specifically to stop you from doin' anything else to provoke him…" she said. Clamping her teeth down, she amended her words. "But I…I appreciate you trying to help, even if misguided."

"That's what partners do right?" he struggled to say, dry and empty in execution. Her brows quirked at the thought, hanging onto something there in his words.

"Partners. So we're still—we're partners," she said, head dropping. A question hitched to the end of her voice, her hopeful he heard it. She picked back up, meeting his eyes with a glaze over her burned greens that resembled regret. Even if he saw it, she wasn't sure he believed.

Is that what she wanted them to be? Is that what she really wanted? She denied it for so long, but…

Pursing his lips, his head rolled in reply before giving her words. "From what I understand, yeah. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't know what else we're supposed to be, Kate. Definitely not what I thought. Not what I used to believe. The only one unconvinced otherwise appears to be Trapper John over there."

The words built on one another, edging further out of her stomach to go and throw them up, but John silenced her before she could, tossing the phone into her lap.

"Check on the bus."

She steadied her eyes on him as the phone rang back to command. The loud speaker filled the room with rings, her patience waning as each drew out. When the line picked up, Ryan and Espo were at the end of it.

"How's that bus coming," she said fast, setting aside the…whatever was going on between her and Castle.

"En route," Espo started. "Should be there soon."

"Soon, like, less than ten minutes?" John poked.

"Did you get that guys?"

"Soon enough," Ryan added with an underlined irritation.

"How about less than five?" he pressed again.

"Listen pal, traffic happens to be a bitch right about now–"

"Let it be Ryan," she cooled him, "your skin's too pretty to be chipped off by him." John narrowed his eyes on her. She took a breath, prepping herself to speak up again. "On a side note, how about we get that pizza later."

Castle's eyes brightened, brows raised as his attention zoned in on her words.

"What you thinkin'?" Espo said.

"Oh, the usual. Just make sure they shake some Saffron on and add a little Dijon. Bruschetta would be nice too. One pizza, two plates of Bruschetta. Make sure **no** extras this time."

"What the hell is that?" Trapper John stepped toward her, eyes thinning more in his suspicion, but she maintained her fortitude.

"Well…if I can get out of this soon, I'm gonna wanna eat. Did you want us to get you something or–"

The hostages exchanged snickers and giggles. Espo and Ryan coughed in the background, muffling their laughter as much as possible. Castle tugged on his lip, the smallest chuckle hiding inside his mouth.

Damn – even when he didn't want to, she could still make him laugh.

"Cute," he bit in response. Trapper John didn't fancy being under the heat. "Hang up. Now."

She tapped the end button and dropped the phone into her lap, eyes fixed on him again. As he reached down for the phone, he grabbed her arm as well, lifting her to stand, moving her far enough from Castle before planting her down in a chair.

"Let's talk, Kate, hm? Let's talk about you. You and Ricky over there." He circled her, looking up and down her body with a determined look, a look of intent that didn't sit well with Castle. He straightened his back a little more, an itch in his legs prompting him to position himself for sudden movement or action. John's snatched off a glove, a hand starting to roam her…igniting a fire inside Castle, blood like gasoline circulating throughout as he watched.

"What's there to talk about?" She kept collected, shielding her disgust, shying away from the touch. Chilled, like a doctors hands.

But these were far from healing hands.

"Oh come on. I saw your face when you saw him. If that's not a worried lovers look then–"

"–we're not," she started, remembering Castle's thinking, his rationale. He was egging them on. He wanted to coax the anger out, get either of them to act, or do something stupid. "Just partners," she tried stronger.

"Oh, you're sure?" John teased. A finger slid under her chin, but she pulled away with a glare. "I think you're lying to me. You remember what I said about that, right?" He turned away from her and neared Castle again, bending down and grabbing for his wounded arm. On contact he yelped, lids wielding shut in agony to halt the tears brimming beneath.

"No–" she fought, part insistent, part reacting to his pain. It hit home too well. The anger in her voice cut too obviously to John's ears. "We watch for each other's welfare, but we're professional."

"Just professionals…" his voice dangled, squeezing his tips over the bloodiest part, the entry wound, pressing the bullet in Castle's arm. Jaw slacked, opening to groan in protest, he still stayed mute through the pain. Her fingers curled at the sight of it, nails digging and puncturing her skin as she restrained her desire to attack.

"Yes–" she stretched, gritting her teeth. The other hostages gasped at the sight, but she refused to join them. They both had to convince him of their cut ties to stop his play, but this was trickier territory.

A dirtier game.

John held on, making Castle's skin shimmer with sweat, even some tears. Beckett's heel lifted off the ground, entirely eager to throw herself at him and take her chances. She couldn't stand seeing Castle…seeing Rick suffer like this. The thought was fleeting, but she had to wonder –

Is this was he felt when he saw her get shot?

Only when John released his hold did she let go of her breath, seeing Castle do the same, panting painfully in relief. He gulped down, closing his eyes for a moment until his 'attending' left his side.

John strode back to Beckett, relishing in his results as his index and thumb dripped red. They found their way onto her body again, now curious to test Castle limits.

"So if I, I don't know, did this…" His fingers undid her collar, and gradually made their way down until her white tank exposed. Castle swallowed at the hands crawling in descent, his teeth grinding and gnashing as he watched, but she held her eyes on him, softened to make him stay put…to assure him she was gonna be fine.

"Nothing," she spat at the doctor between her teeth. He eyed her, then Castle, smiling at the expression residing on his face.

"That?" he asked pointing. "That, is not nothing, sweetheart. Because when I do this–"

His fingers swept up towards her chest, red wiping across the white as it neared the place Castle immediately sought to protect. He lunged toward them both, going for John's filthy hands, but with a laugh, the doctor's gun met her scar with fervor, while Dr. Howser's met Castle's temple.

Breathing shallowed, the barrel awakened nerves, ones that started to alarm her body and open closed doors. The trauma flooded back, the sight of Castle hovering her as life gushed out the wound. Her greens disappeared into near black at the touch and pressure of the metal against her scar, breath almost suspended as she felt herself dying again. Coupled with the spill of John's voice out of his mask, falling down her neck, the cold embraced her.

"Come on, are you really gonna let me have at your girl?"

"Don't Rick, please, don't," she implored with wet eyes, her hands moving up slightly to gesture him to stand down. "Alexis. Alexis, remember. Alexis."

He stared into her remembering for a moment, if only for a moment, the woman he loved. Unclenching, he pulled back, retreating when the pain in his arm throbbed to remind him of its existence, making for caution as he sat back down with the gun still aimed at his head. When Howser let go, his eyes rolled up slowly to see Beckett again, still stiffened under the barrel.

He'd rip it off and shoot the jackass if she only nodded.

"Aw, if that's not love, I don't know what is." His smile was worse in person than over the phone. "If you weren't so into her I should've just taken her myself."

Letting her go, her lungs clung to the release, chest expanding again, struggling to supply her body with oxygen as he walked away. Seizing the opportunity, Castle slid over, she sliding off the chair weakly, still recovering, to meet him halfway, crouched together on the floor.

"What the hell is this," she said, still trying to catch her breath, propping her head against the desk to rest.

Just the same, he laid his head back, straining to find air between his hard swallows. "Not a damn robbery."


	5. Chapter 5

Castle was losing too much blood. He knew it now, body emerging into a tub of water, the remaining life in his veins icing each part of him. Both eyelids fluttered, troubled to stay fully open, to stay conscious as much as he wanted to. Recovering, he was still recovering. Trapper John's rouse had sent his heart right into overdrive, blood pressure going up, the tourniquet bleeding completely violet with every pounding beat.

Theorizing probably didn't help either, but it had to be done. He'd goaded Beckett into it, stubborn enough to keep going despite her vocalizing concerns over his worsening condition.

"Let's just think on it for a second," he insisted.

"You have to stop–"

"I'm already there, Beckett, let's just–let me be useful for a bit until I'm not."

A demand lived in his voice, along with an idea she couldn't entertain right now. _Until I'm not_ , he said. Until he's what? Dead? _Fuck that_.

In a last attempt at hitting the case, he hastened the flow of his thoughts as he winded down, going on to elaborate for Beckett that these men were more than robbers. They had to be, maybe some kind of professionals in some type of killing or torture, on account of what had just happened. All of it, all of this mess was more than what the morning had started as. More than what they thought to be another robbery.

"They're wearing gloves…but clearly they're not afraid to leave prints behind. He's left some in my blood already," he said gesturing to his arm. She took a moment to process, but he noted her struggle to, mind only partly focused on his words while the other part invested all its energy over the blood still seeping out.

Refusing to talk until she responded, he threw her waiting eyes, rounded out with anticipation for her line, for her contribution. After so many seconds in silence, she gave in with a sigh, sloppy as she sought for words with his wound still in her sight. "Fine. Who…hires professional…whatever they are…to rob a bank, and still commit the biggest rookie mistakes in the book? They haven't even touched the money in the safe."

"It's the box. It's gotta be. They came prepared for it – only it's not theirs. If it was, this would've been done already."

"But why? Why all of this? Why go through the trouble of a hold up?"

He sat on the question too, but nothing came quick enough. As much as he wanted to think on it, everything grew hazy before him, a veil draping over his eyes, his thoughts. So he uttered what he could, musing all he could. "Time…time, maybe…"

"Time," she sought to clarify. "Time to what?"

"It took them time…they needed time to find the box…time that we're running out of now." His voice started drifting. Hard swallows between turns, he breathed deeper to fight it off. No, he couldn't go yet.

"Stop _talking_ , Castle," she hissed his name through her teeth. But though commanding, she was unable to remove the crack of supplication sounding in it. "This is the one opportunity you have to save yourself by shutting up, and you won't take it."

A smirk, a smirk appeared just briefly before he spoke. "And here I thought you knew me well enough to know I can't do that."

Was that a joke? Or a jab? He didn't wear a smile, but maybe that was on account of his dropping BP. Unsure she pursed her lips, and took the opportunity to turn back into harsher waters, into the rapids, a surge of courage pulling her along.

"I don't know that you're the Castle I know. The Richard Castle that I know doesn't dwell in bars all night, ignoring his family for a week. He doesn't slump and drink himself–"

"Okay, now you stop. Stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-stop." Breathy, his voice started to rasp, unable to commit a fuller force in his words. "I went to the bar, yes, I did. However I did not…drink, not there. I probably played the worst bartender ever at The Old Haunt. I spent evenings talking to strangers… _asking_ advice."

"Asking advice?" she said with a quirked brow.

"Yeah, you go to bartenders for advice, but you don't…give it to them. That goes against all codes of the craft–"

Rambles, he was rambling, and it smacked a grin onto her lips knowing it was better than his cut speech to her before. Yet even so, just like his usual rambles, she sought out for the point, and her look towards him communicated it well.

"And…moving on to the part you actually care about," he rushed off her gaze. Eyes closed, he tried to refocus himself as the ache in his arm continued to amplify. This was what he was waiting for – and he would not let the lights go out a moment before. So tempering his breath, he made each intake efficient by lowering his voice, preserving as much energy he could while speaking. "I asked…every person I served what they would do in my situation. I said, 'what would you do if the one you loved screwed up?' I kept it general, not giving away any specifics. And you know what? Every single one asked me a variation of, 'well, how much do you love them?' I couldn't answer. I couldn't because I knew that if I did, I would answer my own question. Thinking about it now, how many people I bothered with this, I probably lost a lot of clientele within the last week."

There was a laugh somewhere in her, but nervousness drowned it out and overwhelmed her limbs, vibrating with the knowledge of what would come next. She didn't dare respond. She couldn't bring herself to. Not yet, at least.

"Every night, I got the same reply. But it wasn't what I wanted, so I kept searching for the answer, for the one that would allow me to walk away. Love isn't enough. I repeated that out loud to convince myself, but is it? Is it enough to compensate, to atone for wrongs?"

A ragged breath followed after hearing his words. Raw, all over she was raw. A winding pain twisted in her limbs as she mustered up a reply, the words flying out through sandpaper. "Did you get your answer?"

Taking a moment, the face he wore confirmed her fears, but once the pause died he spoke to break her heart with kindness. "I did. The second you put the welfare of Alexis above yourself, telling me to remember her first. It made me remember everything else too. Who you are, what you stand for, what you've done. All the things about you I've taken to accept and protect. None of it absolves you. I'm still angry because you're a woman of truth, and you negated that with this lie." She bowed her head at the thought, clenching her teeth in wait for the bomb. "But I refuse to throw away four years of our partnership for one wrong in the last few moments we might have together."

Oh.

"Cas-Castle I…" she stifled her words, suffocating in everything he said. The tears flowed, knowing that even before she could explain herself he was right there. He was right there ready to accept her again. Part of her wanted him to be more angry, but gratitude filled her to the brim with an awe for his forgiveness. All the pent up heat he'd sealed inside of him, it deflated now. Too weak to be angry, too tired to ignore her, too deathly to give up on them, in his own silence he did what he knew best.

He loved her.

In this moment, acceptance settled over that she was the only thing he wanted to see going out. In four years this woman, if that be the right word to capture everything she was, rewrote his story. Completely. She rewrote it with a simple question of his name. And then…she became everything.

She was every day, every morning, every night…every word he wrote, every thought, every revelation, new breath. She was every taste of success, every sound of joy, touch of fire, scent of good, of the truth. She was the light shone over him for four years, four years, and now, he would close his eyes in that light…maybe in the last thing he'd ever see.

She ripped up his shirt again seeing dripping blood, tying a second piece around to apply more pressure to the arm in an attempt to combat his draining strength. He watched her work, a mix of sweat and tears polishing both cheeks as she fixed up his wound again. Her fingers trembled against it in his blood, staining every tip.

"Come on Castle, you gotta stay awake," she said rubbing his shoulder. The fight in him continued to diminish, body lax, but the worst for him was seeing what it did to her. She roughed against her tie, under her constrain, reddening her wrists while still to tending to him. This seemed punishment enough.

Because even if she couldn't say it, she loved him too.

"Hey-hey," she started again when his blues disappeared. The intervals started getting longer under his lids. "You can't go yet, o-kay? We made a promise to your mom, remember, we're gonna stay together." Now was not the time for shyness, for shame. After a moment of indecision, she folded her hands into and over his, holding them against his chest to maintain the pressure. Relief pried opened her heart when his face didn't change at her touch.

"You'll watch them right?" he mumbled under his exhaustion. She squeezed his hands to waken him, pumping them in pulses.

"Watch who," she half asked, eyeing his arm with stronger attention.

"Alexis…and my mother…" he breathed out. The thought hooked to her heart, yanking it down inside her chest.

"Stop," she said. Voice stern, her eyes disagreed, curved with the gentleness of grief and lined with new tears in the bottom lids. She started to bleed out now too.

"I'm serious," he pressed, voice just slightly more full.

"So am I," she finished with a swallow. "I am not gonna watch them, because that's your job, and that's what you're gonna do when we get out of here."

"And if we don't? If I….don't…from the start this hasn't been good for us."

She broke her gaze, bowing, shedding away her sorrow before meeting him again. Her lips shifted around, determined to silence and mend the cracks in her voice. "We're off our game," she muttered. "But we're still fighting, alright? I don't give up, you don't either."

A pause came and passed, his strain to collect himself and remain coherent more obvious with the changing time. A drooping head kicked her panic up.

"No-no, hey," she urged, taking a hand to pat his face. "You're not doin' this, okay?"

He squeezed her hand, fully threading his fingers between hers to stop her from going on. "I _love_ you," he croaked.

The words hit her like the bullet. Just like the sniper's bullet nearly a year ago. Everything came back, but not in the same horror. Her memory and eyes compared both his faces…his pained, vibrant face before, hovering over her with a fear she'd never thought to see from him. It contrasted his pallor face now, hollowing blue eyes filled with the same tears, but a look of contentment painted across.

"Don't Rick, please not like this," she said. She didn't want him to say it. No. Because if he said those words, those few words for a second time, that meant he believed he wouldn't get to say them again. The moment hung, his blues unsteady under collapsing eyelids, and yet he still reigned her with them.

"But you need to hear it, again…I still feel it…Because you're more…you're more to me than a lie. _A terrible lie_ , awful," he added with a torn smile. She broke one too, uneasily as her tears picked up. "Terrible…but still. I've lost a lot…a lot of…blood. So…just…in case…"

He held on for her, assuring his words with the glimmer in his eyes. A smile faded on his lips, but before he could go, her head flew down to meet them, locking hers in with every bit of energy left in her. Hands gripped to his neck, she pulled him closer, but his mouth had already gone limp. She let go and sat back to look on him, one hand supporting his head, the other still holding up his arms.

"I'm sorry, Castle," she managed between broken sobs. A finger pressed against his neck searching for a pulse, and it was there, but declining. She couldn't contain it anymore. So she let herself bleed out too. "I'm so sorry."

Everything else had died out –

but he still heard her.

–

In and out, in and out, in and out of consciousness. His body put up more of a fight than he realized, with his control completely void, but the systems marching on, keeping everything but the vital organs idle. Snippets of conversation flew through his ears, sound through weakened walls – sometimes muffled, sometimes not. When he could, he'd concentrate on finding Beckett, finding Kate, finding her voice through what he could get. Alarm didn't resonate within until she started screaming for him.

"Castle! No, I'm not–I'm not leaving him–let–Castle–Rick!"

"Party's over sweetheart," he heard Trapper John growl.

What was happening? What were they doing with her?

Struggle. Silence. Scream. Silence. His senses were at war with his pain, mostly unconscious as the rest of the events unfolded but putting up a fight to come back.

Movement. Pain. Screams.

Boom.

Not enough time to process everything, he got bits and pieces of what happened. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't dead. He was out, but a beat still thrived in him. Darkness sat on his face for some time, but someone returned to him, someones, hands folding around him to move him to…maybe a gurney?

"Dad!" A shriek. Oh god, Alexis. The last thing he wanted was for her to see him like this.

Wait. Beckett.

"What the hell happened to him," another voice whipped out. Espo. It was…Espo.

Did she survive?

There it was. Cherries. "You checked out the box, right?" _Beckett…Kate._ All their voices shook, an urgency rushing their words…he could only catch so much.

Agnes…Murder…Ron.

Stepson.

Sal.

All of it tumbled together, but just before he could really fall under, he felt the push and lift beneath him, slamming and rolling onto something else, making out Beckett's voice one more time…a hurried but pleading whisper spilling close to his ears.

"Castle hold on, okay? I promise you I will come back, okay, I'm not going anywhere. Just hold on, please, hold on."

The aroma of cherries spilled over his face, accompanied by a press of her lips against his forehead. Had anyone been around? The thought didn't process all the way.

He was under again.

–

The sound of his heart rate had never been more relieving and annoying at the same time. Alive, yes, he was alive, but also awake to the pain still throbbing in his arm. He was confident even before opening his eyes that this was post surgery, but he peeked just to check. Beside him the sun poured in, setting or rising he couldn't be sure, but the glow looked fresh…new.

Taking his clean arm, he swept his fingers over his chin to judge the stubble. Two days minimum. He wondered what that meant for his release, but the moment his eyes met the other side of the room, a lightness overtook inside as he dragged out an exhale.

There she was, still dressed in the medic clothes, hair still tied up, knocked out on the couch. She'd curled up on one side, facing in with a jacket that resembled Alexis's hanging over her legs. Should he call her over? Do they pick up where he dropped out? No, now was not the time. Not yet. Part of that decision came with Alexis and Martha entering the room with breakfast, nearly dropping everything when they saw him awake.

No words escaped them initially, silently exploding with thanks as they darted over to embrace him. Wary of his arm, his daughter wrapped both of hers around his neck as his mother reached over for his hand, and planted a kiss on his temple. All of them still aware of sleeping Beckett, they kept their voices low.

"Next time don't bet so hard on a guy's bluff dad, okay? Especially one with a _gun_ ," Alexis said. Half a smile rested on her lips, unimpressed by her father's actions, but too grateful to nestle in the serious. He was here. Safe.

"You got it, pumpkin," he started. The dryness surprised him, irritating his throat into a couple coughs, but he cleared it up as he sought for more answers. "The case, do you know–?"

"They caught him, I believe that's what she said," Martha gestured to the couch. "I don't know the exact details, but…you, how do you feel dear?"

"Relieved. In pain, but relieved. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see your faces."

Smiles all around, they all leaned in together, embracing with the weight of waiting off their hearts. After a few moments, Alexis let go and motioned toward Beckett, but he stopped her midway and shook his head.

"You don't want to–?" She trailed off, mindful of everything that transpired prior to the robbery, half understanding if he didn't want it… _that_ right now.

"Let her sleep," he said waving Alexis to come back. "She hasn't gone home at all?"

Both girls nodded. "She came as soon as the case finished, even while you were still in surgery," Martha started.

"She took up the night shift," Alexis added. "Wanted to make sure someone was always watching you. Just in case you woke up, or something."

 _Of course she did_ , he thought to himself.

She didn't wake for hours, even with the conversations, nurses coming and going to check on him. She turned over a couple times, but she didn't break her sleep till dusk, about the time he'd sent his two ginger heads home. If she were to wake, and they were still there, he didn't want to lose the opportunity of finally cleaning this mess up. But just before leaving, his mother left behind some words.

"She saved us, Richard. I hope you'll take that into account before you both go at it."

He just nodded. _Duly noted, mother._

About a half hour afterward, Beckett stirred on the couch. Turning outwards, Alexis's jacket slid off her and onto the floor, her eyes peeling open to meet his blues already watching from the bed. Even in the lowlight, they emanated the sea within so brightly, it pierced through the shadows to greet her. With exhaustion still looking over both, their expressions were washed out, no clear sense of what the other felt on display. But he saw the burst in her as she stood up, nearing him in a slow shuffle. She motioned to go closer, but took a step back, restricting herself to the foot of the bed.

He had to be the one to draw the line. "So you're scared to come near me, but kissing that's just what, open season on my lips?" he offered with a light chuckle. Letting it process a few seconds, she broke out and rushed toward him, taking his head to her chest and wrapping her arms snug around his neck.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she breathed out. Her touch settled him in a way he didn't understand, but he held onto it, keeping her close with his arm curling over hers. But it lasted only for so long before he spoke up, setting her down onto the bed to sit.

"What happened?"

He caught a glimpse of ease in her eyes, realizing he went back to the case. "Sal Martino happened. Or Ron Brandt. He runs a company that deals with weaponry that supplies special forces. That's where lovely Trapper John came from." She went to explain the aftermath – the bomb, how they got out, what happened to the robbers.

"Guess I know what business I'm never gonna dabble in," he tried. A smile tugged up briefly on her face, but it disappeared soon after. There's more.

"Ron had a wife named Tanya, and a son–"

"–Connor," he finished. She just nodded. "Connor–are they okay, what do you mean had–"

"Divorced. Problems with domestic abuse, and Tanya and her son faked their death to get away. The box, the safety deposit was literally a safe box to protect them. It helped them secretly keep contact with Agnes, her mother, the one who got murdered for the key. They had a secret messenger working it and everything."

 _But there's more, she's letting on more._ That tone, it's that tone he recognized far too well. "You're holding your tongue, what else happened?"

Uncomfortable. She fidgeted too much, looking down too much. There was some failure here. Her lips thinned, brows furrowed as she gathered her words. "Uhm…we got him. We figured it out, but Ron managed to get to Tanya. She's banged up pretty bad, staying in intensive care. Connor's fine, but everyone's worried on what could happen to him if she doesn't pull through. There's not a lot of choices lined up."

 _Shit._ "We we're off our game," he said. Each shared a heavy look at the premise, her brows drawn together in frustration and his lips pulled tight in remorse. If they had played smarter, thought clearer…maybe…"It's no excuse."

"It doesn't help to think what could've been either. Better or worse."

Both knew it was coming again, that it was inevitable, only it proved easier to talk about this than…that.

But with the same wants in mind, they knew they had to.

"Why?" he asked after a couple minutes in silence. Watching her head drop, rising back up with breaths forced out of her mouth he prepared for the worst – every inhale and exhale shaky as she collected her thoughts.

A scoff escaped her first as she looked away, out the window for the rising moon. "It's funny. Of all the memories, all of my past – it's that minute, that single minute that I remember so vividly. Every breath, every beat, every…scream of that chaos. I _know_ it." Returning her eyes to him, her greens glimmered, flooding as she thought on all of it. "It lives with me, in me, I still see and feel everything, but the…the one thing I hold onto is what you said to me. Your face, the hurt in your eyes as you–"

They were falling now, without reserve her soul bled out as she fought to continue. "When I came back in the game…I wasn't sure what to do. All of it just…I suffocated being thrown back in, and I needed…time. Space. When I left the city, I thought it was the right thing to do, to get away. But I left behind an important thing. You."

She took his hand and folded it into both of hers, smiling with clear difficulty to keep powering through. He deserved to know. "Every day you were with me, your voice telling me it over and over again. Each time I wrestled with the idea, making excuses for it, but eventually I gave in. I accepted that it actually happened. So I ended things with Josh, and I wanted to call you but…"

"But?" he asked, the earnest beaming out his eyes.

"I got scared," she shrugged, her voice dipping out before she could finish the word. Still, he heard it. "I started thinking…Wow, okay, he loves me. Can I give that back to him? Is he even sure of it? Was this a knee-jerk reaction to me nearly dying?"

"Kate–"

"Please, Rick" she said squeezing his hand. "Just…listen, for now." His face looked unsettled, but he nodded off for her to continue. "I didn't know how to deal, how to deal with that along with everything else going on. And then when we met up again, I wanted to step forward. I did. But there was such fear in telling you that I remembered. I didn't want you to think, 'no, we can't go there' because I couldn't…say it back to you. Not because I don't want to, or that it's an offense on your part. The fact that it _is_ you makes all of this more difficult.

"You've scaled my walls. You've fought to break them down, to climb 'em. And I've been working at them myself, trying to understand them more in my therapy–"

"–you're in therapy?" he cut in. She managed a curt nod.

"I…yeah. Just, for everything. I'm trying, still trying to get where I wanna be with all that's happened with me, feeling safe, not shutting out…everything, or everyone – you. If I jump too fast here, that might happen, and I don't–I won't let that happen, especially between us. So, until the bricks fully come down I can't–I can't give what you're asking. I guarantee you will fall off and get hurt–I'm not capable yet of–"

"Okay, I've heard–enough, I think," he said lifting his hand to stop her. Shaking his head, a faint smile spread his lips in amazement. "I told you I loved you. That I love you. I told you not because I expected it back, and not because I wanted you to reciprocate anything, I told you I love you because I _do_. I told you because in the moment I thought I would lose you, the one thing I wanted you to know was that. Not in a knee-jerk reaction, not for a claim I wanted returned to me.

"A year ago, you echoed Montgomery at the funeral. You said, 'we are bound by our choices, but we are more than our mistakes.' I'm bound by mine, and it's you, Kate. It's been you, all this time. I've waited, even without you asking me to, and I will continue to if you ask, but how exactly will I know? How am I supposed to know what to do if we never breathe a word on it?"

She shook her head, a wry smile formed as she forced out the rest. "I guess…I'm always afraid of losing you. Like everyone else." His head tilted at the thought, shooting her an incredulous look.

"Why is it that you think you can get rid of me so easily?"

Her chest softened, breathing easier once she let go of her hold over it, laughing a bit with him for the first time in what seemed like months. "I don't know," she muttered under her grin. "I thought I was pretty close two days ago."

"Close, not quite though." The tension washed away, gradual with the tides pulling it back to sea, but even with everything said and done, she needed to do it again. She wanted to.

"I'm sorry, Castle," she said, carrying her hand to trace her thumb along the side of his face. "For everything."

Before she pulled it away, he held her wrist, pulling it down before pressing her shoulder also, asking – no, telling her to lay with him. She didn't resist. After the hell they'd just been through, she couldn't think to leave him. She belonged _here_.

"I understand, if you need me to wait. If you're still healing up," he said as she curled into him. "I want you better, I want you to feel good about where you are and who you are, if you aren't already. Until then, I have nowhere else to go really, no one else to annoy – I have a short list, and you're basically at the top."

She laughed into his chest, embracing him just a little tighter. Safe. This was safe. "So no luck in getting rid of you, huh?"

He played a gasp, her smile growing more before he spoke again. "I knew it. You are trying to be rid of me." With a hum into him in reply, the outline of her lips spread across and distinct through his dressing. "Hey," he said, calling for her gaze. She looked up, a rush flowing through her when she met him. "You are more than just capable of loving someone, you know that right?"

"I'm…yes, I know." _There's you, for starters_. "I'm almost there."

"Well, when you are, I'll be there too."

Neither of them could see it yet, but they already loved each other, so much more than they claimed to know. It wasn't in words, in the exchange of I love you's. It sat in the stares when the other was asleep, or looking away. It ignited the safe warmth they kept between them. It dwelled in the bond of their partnership they forged over four years.

But this, together just like this – it was enough for now.

A/N: SO yes, I didn't have them necessarily get together because realistically I don't know how timely that is? I started out writing this with the intention of it being able to fit in the timeline somehow (this could honestly have been done after limey/headhunters as an extension of "after" 47 seconds but silly me I didn't do that ._.) so I'm sure some readers might've wanted them to get together? If that's the case I'm happy to write an alternate ending, but only upon substantial request. To me, Always is just the right timing for them, unless it's really AU. Aside from that, I enjoyed discovering this story and I hope, truly hoped you enjoyed reading. Thank you for all the kind words in reviews, and for even taking a chance and READING IT AT ALL. BLESS. It's very much appreciated. ^_^ And again, if you didn't like it –

My bad. Maybe ask someone else to do one? #whoops. :)


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